


Asgårdsreia

by dragonnan



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Canon Compliant, Canon Disabled Character, Contains some book characters but is set in the film universe, Crude Suggestive Vikings, Epic Friendship, Fyr Bal, Gen, Historical References, Hunted, Hurt Hiccup, Loosely set mid-season 3 RTTE, Major Character Injury, Rude Viking Language, Spoilers for Race To The Edge and other series episodes, Stoick loves his boy!, Viking Festivals, pre-httyd 2
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-07-28 15:03:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7645858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonnan/pseuds/dragonnan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Berk is preparing for the annual Fyr Bal.  With the Dragon Riders back home for the festival, it's sure to be fun for everyone! However, between Stoick's awkward prying into his personal life and the pure boredom of being away from the Dragon's Edge, Hiccup needs a vacation from his vacation!  Turns out, there are, actually, worse ways to take a break.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Awkward is My Middle Name

_The long neck strained – lips pulled back from cone shaped teeth. Falling, diving; both at once as wind tore past the streamlined body. A small shape tumbling just ahead – just out of reach. The ground rushed upward in a heaving world of rock and smoke and immolating flames._

 

_They would die. But not alone._

 

_Toothless surged towards his fragile human – that hopelessly flightless creature. And then there was no time left._

 

_Teeth snapped around the boy's leg, blood spattering and bones crushing under the pressure. With a violent jerk of his head, Toothless flipped the limp body into his grip – wrapping his limbs and wings around the boy as they crashed to earth._

 

 

 

<*(oo)*>

 

 

**3 Years Later**

 

 

 

Wind tore past his ears – hair plastered back from his forehead as he streaked towards the earth – arms wide on either side of his body. Yeah, a miscalculation would mean certain death, but...

 

“WOOOOOOOOOOOO YEAH!”

 

Hiccup screamed delight as his body made a tight spin – rotating to face the dragon plummeting alongside him. Toothless grinned... very toothily. Wings giving a few pumps to keep pace with his rider, the black reptile angled just a bit – allowing them to twist around one another for a few seconds.

 

And then they were out of time. Spreading his arms and legs out and shifting his belly towards the rushing ground, Hiccup slowed himself just enough for Toothless to slide beneath him. Snapping his prosthetic into place and grabbing on tight, the two of them streaked across the hard packed dirt – barely a foot above the solid surface – and swooped back up into the sky as Hiccup's whoops echoed off the sea stacks.

 

His teeth chatting in the wind whipped cold, eyes streaming from the breakneck speed, Hiccup still grinned as the two of them angled towards Berk just as the sun began to settle towards the waiting seas. Chopping waves blushed pink and gold as the sun halved itself beyond the horizon.

 

Fyr Bal was only a few weeks away. For the last few years, the dragons had been welcomed into the ceremony – with Toothless lighting the ceremonial pyre. And everyone delighted in the massive feast – mounds of fresh fish set aside just for their leathery companions along with deliciously prepared tidbits to be enjoyed by human and dragon alike.

 

Squinting as the sinking light reflected gold off the wavelets, the young man tipped his head back – back until he could flop on the saddle; trusting Toothless to eventually carry them home. The stars were already brightening above with the rapidly darkening heavens. Dain, Dvalin, Dunyr, and Durathror lifted their massive antlers in honor of the heavy moon. Nearby, the Eagle rested on his perch; awaiting Ratatosk and his tales of mischief. Many more came to life as the glow of day finally faded to just a slip of pale violet. These stars were like home to him; all those hours staring above. Yes, sometimes in search of a certain Night Fury. But... but more nights... just watching the stories play above him. For an awkward and slight child, those stars had been a welcoming place. Easy to imagine himself up there – walking among the gods. All along thinking the bold killing of a savage beast would earn him the favor he yearned for. Never imagining that the sparing of that creature would win him that acclaim. He smiled up at Nidhogg – the “poison biter”. The great serpent had always been thought of as a cursed thing by his people. But, now... he considered it a protector. Who more worthy of that benevolence than the people of Berk? They, who cast aside three hundred years of tradition and, instead, embraced the very creatures they had waged war against?

 

Hiccup shivered and clawed himself back upright. Below him he felt a rumble from Toothless – a mumbled rolling grumble ending in a snort.

 

“Alright, bud. Let's head back. I think Gobber has a basket of salmon for your dinner.”

 

Chortling happily, the dragon shifted into a tight dive as he aimed them towards the fires that lit up their island. Holding on tight, Hiccup felt his own belly make a hungry gurgle. With any luck, Toothless would be willing to share some of that salmon. Just so long as he didn't hork it up first. Uuugh.

 

 

~*~

 

Toothless licked bits of fish from between his teeth while the two of them rested on the rooftop after dinner. Streaks of green and red seared through the stars above. Some said it was Ullr displaying his glory. Others, like Astrid, believed it to be the glint of Valkyrie armor as they soared through the heavens. Still others; warriors such as Spitelout, Gobber, and even his own father, insisted it was the Bifröst and that Thor himself was on his way to one of the nine realms. Hiccup, though, had always suspected it was something else that triggered those sinuous bands of color. Something that could be explained beyond magic and legends. Oh, sure, absolutely he believed in Odin and Valhalla – Thor and Loki were just as real as the toes on his fee... well, foot. But, not very long ago, people had thought that dragons were man eating demons with a vendetta against humans. But that had turned out not to be the case at all. Just because someone had a belief about something didn't mean they had the right answers 'why'. Sometimes it was about looking at things with a different lens to see the real truth.

 

Wet snuffs tickled his ear and Hiccup twisted with a sharp laugh as Toothless blew a warm breath against his temple. He rubbed the soft skin behind a tall ear flap and sighed. He'd only been back home on Berk for a day and already he was twitching to head back to the Edge. But he'd promised everyone an extended vacation in light of the upcoming festival and, the truth was, he needed some down time himself. His stump had been aching badly now for several weeks. While not one to show pain if he could help it, Astrid and Fishlegs had both given him concerned stares on the occasions when he hadn't been able to avoid a slight limp. If he pushed it too far, even Snotlout and the twins; the least observant trio in the group, were bound to pick up on his discomfort.

 

An annoying tickle started up again under the straps of leather around his calf. His fingers dug along the edge of his prothesis but the itch was too deep. Rubbing his head, he figured he may as well call it a night. Toothless yawned with that thought – gusting the air with a waft of fishy breath. Nose wrinkled, Hiccup scratched the dragon beneath his chin before giving him a hearty slap to his backside as he stood – wobbling a bit on the angled roof. “Come on. Let's go before we fall off and I have to explain to Gothi why I broke my other leg.”

 

A few flaps of the dragon's wing and they were able to climb through the window into Hiccup's old bedroom. Exhausted enough that he considered just flopping on the bed, Hiccup took the time to strip his leathers, piece by piece, until he was down to his green undertunic and thin wool breeches. With his leather armor folded on his trunk, he finally dropped down to the edge of his bed and began undoing the straps holding his prosthetic in place. He bit his cheek and groaned as the cup of his fake limb fell away from the tender stump. No blisters or bleeding but the thickened flesh was red and throbbing with exposure to the air.

 

Tomorrow he'd visit the village elder and get a poultice for his leg. For the moment, though, he chose to leave it be. Besides, he was too tired to do anything else beyond dragging a blanket over his drooping form. Toothless was already curled on his stone – the familiar smell of fire heated rock filling the small room. Eyelids clamping down on dry eyes, Hiccup rubbed at the light sting and pushed himself up towards his pillow with one foot. Well used to his thin mattress, he still shifted his shoulders against the hard surface – missing his fur covered bed back on the island shared with the other dragon riders. Even so, it was only a few minutes before his yawns turned to deep breaths – the last of his energy expended in carrying him off to sleep.

 

 

~*~

 

“Morning!”

 

Hiccup stifled a yelp at Astrid's greeting; complete with a sock to his bicep. Even when she wasn't sneaking, she could still catch him unaware while he was busy rubbing the dew from his eyes.

 

Massaging his arm, he smiled at the young woman – admitting to himself that, as far as Astrid was concerned, a few bruises were worth it. Gods, he was an idiot.

 

“Hey, Astrid. How-how did you, ah... sleep?” How was it he could talk to her like a normal human at the Dragon's Edge yet, barely a full day in Berk and he was fourteen again and stumbling over his own tongue?

 

Astrid, far more collected than he could ever hope to be on his best day, flicked bangs from her eyes before rolling them. “Mom insisted on a proper Viking breakfast before she'd even let me leave the house this morning. Apparently she's under the impression we just eat bark and flavored dirt at the base.” She clapped a hand over her mouth with a sudden burp – her face flushing.

 

Hiccup laughed even though it earned him another arm punch. But Astrid was laughing too so that was fine by him.

 

“Hey, Hiccup!” Overhead, Ruff and Tuff soared past on their zippleback; Tuff hanging upside-down from one head while...

 

“Is his _chicken_ steering Belch?” The hen was balanced in the dragon's left head – short wings spreading out every few seconds as the massive reptile shifted beneath it. “Oh gods...”

 

Cackling twins continued on their weaving path – their disappearance beyond the next row of houses soon, and inevitably, followed by a shuddering crash and furious shouting. Tuff's voice carried over the chaos. “That wasn't my fault!” Several seconds later, a large fire cloud exploded; inciting screaming and the rush of villagers with ready water buckets (a necessary component of living with dragons). Less distinct was Tuffnut's addendum, “okay, that was.”

 

Clutching his hands in the hair at the back of his head, eyes wide, Hiccup puffed his cheeks with air before huffing it out in a long blow. “Well that could have been worse...” He winced even as he said it but, thank Odin, nothing followed that little chaos-inviting statement.

 

“You know, I wouldn't be tempting Loki if I were you.” Astrid nudged against his shoulder – less damaging than her usual forms of friendly affection.

 

Hiccup let his hands drag down his face before dropping them to his sides. He eyes flicked to the left – noting her wind flushed cheeks and too long bangs that continued to blow in front of her eyes no matter how often she pushed them from her face. Aaand he was doing it again, Heimdallr's gold teeth! He needed to focus! Just because they were taking it easy for a few weeks didn't mean he could start getting lazy. Not with Viggo still out there terrorizing dragons.

 

A thundering approach garbled and snorted its way between the two of them – knocking Astrid aside and nearly flattening Hiccup in the dirt as Toothless swiped a wide tongue up one side of his face – lifting his hair in crazy spikes.

 

“Gahhph-thpth! Bud! Ackpth!” He spit and choked – blocking his face with his hands and muffling his complaints. “You got your tongue in my mouth! Gross!”

 

Astrid's wild laughter wasn't helping but at least she pulled him back to his feet once Toothless stopped mauling him. Sticky saliva shone on his leather and streaked his face. Astrid shook foamy goo from her fingers and wrinkled her lips.

 

“Eww...”

 

Useless swipes only spread the mess around. Giving up, Hiccup glared at his dragon, only to get a chortle of dragon laughter right back. Rubbing tacky fingers on the bit of clothing that had somehow been spared, he lifted a half smile towards Astrid as she scratched Toothless under his chin. Glancing back at him over her shoulder, her nose wrinkled in a smirk.

 

Okay so maybe a few days of relaxing weren't such a terrible thing. Eyebrow lifting, Hiccup took a long step towards the girl – swinging his arms out to the side. “So, uh, Astrid. What – uh – what do you think about may-maybe...”

 

“ _HICCUP!”_ A flock of terrible terrors scattered as Stoick stomped down the hillside from the mead hall – several scorched villagers gathered a little further back with less than delighted expressions.

 

Stepping away from the source of the chief's ire, Astrid tipped her head in something like apology. “I should... let you take this...” She murmured before escaping from the danger zone.

 

Hiccup groaned. “Traitor!” Watching her go so far as to whistle up Stormfly and mount the nadder, he, nonetheless, appreciated the grace she showed in gliding onto the saddle before they both soared off over Berk.

 

Oh, this was bad. “I....'m stupid...” he muttered; slapping his face into his hand.

 

Then the bright sunlight was shadowed by the looming bulk of his father. Stoick raised an eyebrow at his son – arms crossed.

 

“Care to tell me why two of your riders set Gunnar's yak barn ablaze?”

 

Toothless burbled at the stern tone before dropping on his haunches to scratch an ear fin.

 

One hand rubbing his neck while his opposite shoulder lifted in a jerky shrug, Hiccup took slow steps towards his dragon.

 

“You know those twins! Haha! I-I... should... probably...”

 

“Hiccup...” Stoick's crossed arms tightened as he sighed. “Son, if you're going to escape on your dragon, you may see fit to saddle him first.”

 

Attention flicked towards Toothless. Crouching down on his haunches, the fury crooned and waved his tail in the air – showing off the complete lack of a harness.

 

Hands slapping against his sides, Hiccup rolled his tongue along the back of his teeth. “Well this isn't completely awkward...”

 

A large hand took up most of his shoulder as his father turned him back towards the conversation. “If it isn't too much trouble I'd like it if you had a word with the twins. Before I do.” The hand, then, whacked him in a teeth rattling thump. “And afterward, come up to the house for the midday meal.”

 

Stepping back from his son, Stoick was a short length away when he turned. “Oh, and feel free to invite Astrid as well; if you like.” He smiled, and Hiccup could swear the man even chuckled before resuming his journey towards the still smoking barn.

 

Nevermind how close that was to Hiccup's earlier awkward stumbling almost request, this was just embarrassing. Hands rubbing over his hot face, he spread his fingers to peer at his dragon. Toothless was chewing an itch at the base of one wing; the thin appendage stretched high like a sail.

 

Well they couldn't just sit around waiting for the next humiliation to fall on them. With his track record, he had about five minutes, tops. He nudged Toothless as he headed back towards the house. “Come on, Munchie. Let's go get your saddle on, alright, bud?”

 

 

~*~

 

 

 

Hiccup filled two tankards with frothy golden ale; clunking one down in front of his father before settling into a chair with a loose drop. Stoick took a deep swallow from his mug – breathing out and wiping foam from his mustache before chuckling.

 

“Been more then a month since I haven't needed to pour my own beer.”

 

“That your way of saying you missed me?” Kicking back a chair with one foot, Hiccup dropped down before taking a long swallow. Beer was something they just didn't have back at the Edge – primarily dependent on water and, very rarely, a cask of mead now and again.

 

“Oh, I don't know that I'd go to extremes.” Smiling at his son, Stoick reached for the platter of chicken, set out for lunch, and tore the bird in half – dropping the other half on Hiccup's plate.

 

Silent chewing took over for the next several minutes.

 

“I noticed Astrid wasn't with you.”

 

Hiccup sucked his last bite halfway down his windpipe – a flurry of wild hacking not one bit helped when his father leaned across the table to pound the middle of his back with a thick fist.

 

The bright light of Valhalla finally faded from the back of his eyes. Hiccup bent in half over his knees and dug his fingernails into the wood of the table. “Are-” Wispy words barely strained through his teeth and he hacked for another lifetime, eyes streaming water, before he could properly glare at his father.

 

“Are you, seriously, trying to kill me!? What, am I suddenly a threat to your chiefdom so you decided to do in the competition? That- that is very underhanded, I'll have you know! Not that I've vying for the position; just so we're clear.”

 

“There's time for that sort of talk later.” Stoick thundered as he dropped back to his side of the table – the floor actually shaking from his shifting frame. “Now, first things first,” he leaned forward; eyes reflecting back a disturbing gleam Hiccup recognized from the old man's dragon killing days, “tell me about your young lady.”

 

Do what now? “Ah – ah... oh-ah... you... what? What-what is there to tell? I mean, dad, there's... not anything... you know what, nevermind. I, ahhh-I thiiink I hear the twins destroying someth- Toothless!” The bright _yorp_ just behind his left ear jerked a yelp from his chest and he spun from his chair; leaping into the saddle before they'd even made it back outside.

 

“Wait – Hiccup!”

 

“Sorry dad, gotta go!” ... _to_ _find a nice boulder to drop on my face_... A few years unconscious sounded alright to him, currently.

 

Okay, so maybe it had been a little... premature... coming back to Berk so early. They could have flown back just for the festival – spent the night – and headed back immediately the next morning. Things were just... different in Berk. It wasn't the biggest village in the Archipelago but, even so, there were roughly three hundred beefy vikings living on that frozen rock compared to the six, slightly less beefy youths (Snotlout and Fishlegs notwithstanding) living it up at Dragon's Edge. If dad was breaking out his matchmaker's toolkit it was only a matter of ten or twenty minutes before the rest of Berk was swapping embarrassing details. Secrets were better currency than gold and had a high exchange rate among a crowd who found their best entertainment in public humiliation. They really needed to come up with a better form of excitement. Now that dragon killing was off the table, the villagers were itching for something to pass the time and, personally, Hiccup wasn't in the mood to be on everyone's tongue- _gods_ that sounded depraved!

 

An updraft lifted Toothless towards the peak overlooking Berk. Sheep grazed in the small mountainous glens; barely twitching as the dark reptile soared past. After centuries of predation, the animal herds had grown a thick skin around their scaly neighbors. Even when sheep had been snatched right from the flock, the remaining animals tended to shrug it off and go back to grazing. Of course, that was a good thing, in the long run. Berk's sheep were as tough, gnarly, and as unimpressed as the people that cared for them.

 

Two more weeks of this. What in the name of Thor had he been thinking? Sure, there was plenty of preparation to get ready for the festival. Trees to be cut for the bonfire, fish and other ocean delicacies to be caught for the feasting, wild mushrooms and various herbs to be gathered, and decorations to be made. And that was just some of the work involved. There would also be visits from some of the nearby tribes who would begin trickling into Berk towards the end of the week. It was a great opportunity to reacquaint with friends. Of course, the other point was for unwed young people to find possible wives or husbands. Unlike many or even most of the other tribes, Berk stood out as more than a little weird in its marriage practices. Save for rare occasions, most of the Hooligan tribe tended to marry out of genuine love. Meanwhile, the rest of the archipelago thought this a backward and unViking-like approach given that arranged marriages were the way of the world. Not that this stopped the other tribes from trying to make matches. After all, Berkian stock was especially robust... usually... which was another reason that particular part of the tradition made this festival more than a lot uncomfortable.

 

Every year, at least fifteen to twenty matches were made with families wanting to gain status; regardless of what their children thought about it. Though Stoick had never thought favorably about the practice, that hadn't spared his son from calculating parents looking to cash in on the status to be had by matching their daughter with the chief's heir. And every year it was worse. Aside from feeling like a yak being trotted out to check for decent teeth and a good fat layer, there was also the memory of past Fyr Bals where the poking and pinching had been laced with a crude amusement. Well... at least until last year. At seventeen, Hiccup had finally started to gain some height – even surpassing Snotlout. While still slender, his arms and legs now had noticeable muscle definition. When ships had begun arriving with Meatheads and Bog Burglars, he'd expected the poking, prodding, and embarrassing questions regarding his viking potency. Oh, but it had been so much more embarrassing. Because exactly the same thing had happened. Only, this time, it had been with genuine interest in the answer to the really, really, personal questions.

 

Hiccup shuddered and hung out his tongue in disgust. The Bog Burglar chieftain, Big Boobied Bertha had been the worst; snatching him by the shoulders and trying to initiate a drinking contest, “you're no whelp of Stoick's if ye canna' hold yer ale!” This followed by observations that a man who can hold his liqueur is a man who can breed strong daughters. Ugh.

 

He could feel the tingle of pink creeping across the back of his neck. Maybe dad wouldn't miss him if he just, sorta, vanished for the next few weeks...

 

Action followed thinking as he turned Toothless towards the open water. Being that Midsummer's Eve had only recently passed, the days were longer and, for an incredibly brief period, warmer. Though, “warmer” for Berk meant you could forego one layer of wool underwear.

 

“Just for a few hours, bud.” To which Toothless chortled and scooped air through his wings – clawing them towards the first cloud layer. The small dragon had amazing endurance. Even with a rider, Toothless had flown for as long as twelve hours. However, even after a full day, Toothless had had energy to burn; leaving Hiccup to believe that the dragon could easily fly for days without landing – taking advantage of thermals to soar and conserve energy – sometimes not flapping his wings for many hours at a time.

 

'Just a few hours' may have been the plan but with every league away from Berk, his explorer's heart beat faster. To see beyond the horizon... Before, the only means for that exploration would have been by ship. However, unless one wanted to go on raids (less of a thing now that dragons were no longer the enemy) or become a merchant, there wasn't a lot of call for exploring other lands. He could easily call up memories of Stoick in full father lecture; “Son, yur a Viking! And Vikings don't need to explore beyond their own villages! Someday yu'll be Chief! There'll be naught time for such foolishness'! The rest o' the world can tyke care o' itself. You, however, need to tyke care o' Berk!”

 

Toothless shook his head wildly at the imitation – head fins slapping like thick whips. Picking up speed, he rose away from the waves; flapping hard.

 

“Woah! Okay, okay! No more Stoick impressions!”

 

Warm as his underclothes were, Hiccup still shivered as they angled through a thicker cloud layer. Blowing on his hands, he used his chilled fingers to brush condensation from his cheeks. Toothless chirped and turned his head to lift an ear flap towards his rider.

 

“I'm fine,” Hiccup rubbed the dragon between his shoulder blades, “Let's drop down a little, though. I think there's an island chain somewhere around here. Might be fun to check out.”

 

Snorting, Toothless tipped his wings left and carried them closer to the ocean.

 

Swooping close enough to skim the salt spray, he chuffed dragon laughter as Hiccup sputtered from the backsplash from a larger wave. “Toothless, not that low!” He was still rubbing at the salt in his eyes when he felt Toothless lift them higher again, and then start to accelerate. “You see something, bud?”

 

Dropping his hands, Hiccup squinted through the glare of the lowering sun. Several kilometers off, he could just make out a cluster of ships. Too far away to accurately pick out numbers so he urged Toothless closer to the group. Couldn't be Bog Burglars – not this far out. Probably Mogadon and the rest of the Meathead tribe. “How about we go greet our neighbors?”

 

Toothless bobbed his head a few times as they made for the ships. Hiccup had always gotten along well with Thuggory, the chief's son. Besides, he could use a break from the saddle. His left leg was starting to throb again and he really needed to rest his stump. As it was, he'd already gone against Gothi's admonition to take things slow for the next few days.

 

It was many minutes before they were finally close enough to count ships. “Looks like seven... maybe eight? Huh... usually Mogadon brings at least fifteen.” Maybe there was a sickness over winter? It wasn't unheard of. Even in Berk's past, there had been an outbreak of eel pox so severe that they'd lost nearly a third of the tribe. Though that had happened over a century ago. Still, it twisted something in Hiccup's stomach at the thought of their neighbors suffering such a fate. Hard reflections from the water were nearly blinding and Hiccup shaded his watering eyes. He should have brought his amber glasses; though it hadn't occurred to him to use them outside of the forge. Something worth thinking about at any rate.

 

Leaning forward a little, Hiccup dropped Toothless back towards the waves so that the approaching ship's sails could block out most of the brightness.

 

With a violent jerk, Hiccup hauled Toothless into a tight arc – breaking away from the ships – heart hammering as a flurry of arrows skimmed so close he could feel the tickle of feathered fletching against his cheek.

 

“Dragon hunters!” Gods, and he'd nearly flown right into them! Not only that; with the sun at their backs, they'd have seen him well before he'd have been able to recognize them. Stupid!

 

Toothless weaved and rolled as bolos shot towards them – roaring as one wrapped itself around a back leg. “Come on, buddy, we have to get out of here, now!”

 

Though the bolo wasn't heavy, the swinging weights hanging below them hampered their flight – Toothless shaking his leg to try to free himself as they grasped towards the clouds. More arrows shot towards them as well as several nets and Hiccup leaned hard to the right – forcing Toothless into a barrel rolling plunge to avoid the attacks.

 

Hiccup grunted as an arrow shot between his left side and inner arm – slicing a groove just above the gauntlet and nearly striking Toothless in the head. The sting of pain shifted into the background as they rocked hard to the right – then left again – swooping through the spaces between projectiles.

 

A yell shattered over his teeth as something solid smashed against his left leg.

 

Toothless immediately began to plunge as all control was lost – their flight a nauseating blur of black and red. Hiccup swallowed and sobbed air – his leg refusing to work the pedal. He unlatched the straps keeping him in the saddle – digging his right hand into pommel as his body lifted up from his seat. Left leg slipping loose from the pedal, fighting the forces pushing him back, he strained towards the dented mechanism.

 

Only a few meters from the waves, he caught hold of it with two fingers, and pulled!

 

There was a sharp, belly dropping, _**whoosh**_ of regaining lost height. Hiccup's body slammed back to the saddle – his upper half in a precarious tilt half off the side where he white knuckled the damaged pedal.

 

“Go, bud!”

 

Toothless dodged a few more arrows and flattened out – wings extending as he rapidly picked up speed.

 

The shouts and cursing started to fade.

 

Breath stuttered through Hiccup's chest. He was hurting, badly, and dreaded what level of damage had been done. But that had to wait. They couldn't go far in this condition. His hands were already cramping and, with nothing to anchor him and only one working leg, he could barely keep himself in the saddle.

 

“Toothless, you need to find us somewhere to set down. You can do this.”

 

The warble back was followed by a small shift in direction. Hiccup closed his eyes and clung with as much strength as he could manage – focused only on keeping the tail fin open.

 

They just had to get to safety. He trusted Toothless to take care of that part. Unlike some spontaneously driven humans, the little black dragon could usually stay on his assigned tasks. Hiccup rubbed his forehead against warm leather. He bit into his lip as the strain on his arms spiked knives through his shoulders. It did little, though, to distract from the grinding agony in his leg.

 

He just had to hold on.

 

Just a little longer...

 


	2. I Taste Sour In My Mouth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AN: Many of you may have noticed that I changed the title from "Flying Solo". The plot for this story has not changed. However, I've found a more appropriate title; thus the change to Asgårdsreia. In old Norse, it means “The Ride of Asgard”. Or, in simpler language, “Wild Hunt”.

Stoick rubbed the back of his neck as the last villager left the hall. Dealing with the mayhem caused by those Thorston twins had been part and parcel to his daily duties for nearly eighteen years. There had been a period of time, after the teens had gone to live at the Dragon's Edge, where he'd wake, every day, expecting some sort of disaster that never came. To see the village at peace had been, almost, unnerving. Still, Berkians adapted quickly to new changes and, within days, he'd grown used to his new, less chaotic, rule. Having those characters back again, however, was trying the small amount of patience he had. With Hiccup as his son, there wasn't much leftover of that stoicism, despite his name.

 

Speaking of the boy, Stoick had naught seen a sign of the lad since midday the previous afternoon. When the boy was younger, they'd never much for talking, the two of them. Hiccup was just so... different. He tried, Hiccup... always he'd tried to measure up to his father's expectations – to fit in with the other vikings. But Hiccup's path had never been the one that Stoick had believed, once upon a time, to be the right one. Thank Thor for that. He made his father proud. Stoick often wished for the words to truly express that pride.

 

Recent years had softened things between them. Whether the boy would ever admit it, he had a natural ability for leadership that had grown with every summer. It had been one of the motivations in allowing Hiccup to go on that adventure with his Dragon Riders – ultimately building an outpost that was, not only masterfully crafted, but incorporated unique design features Stoick had never seen before. During his occasional visits home, Hiccup would share his ideas – which, in turn, had led to improvements with Berk's own fortifications.

 

Palms pushed against the massive table – shoving back his chair so he could stand and stretch his back. They had a few days, yet, before the first of the ships would begin to arrive. Trader Johann would likely be the first – always making a special trip for the festival. It was a good opportunity what with so many clans gathered in one place. Stoick wanted to speak with Hiccup about taking the Riders out on reconnaissance during the celebrations. With so many tribes on Berk, they also needed to be more vigilant for danger. Some of their enemies might see it as an opportunity to eliminate many of their foes in one go.

 

Gobber was the first one he'd check with. Hiccup spent a lot of his time with the blacksmith during his visits home. Even if the boy wasn't with him, Gobber, more than anyone in the village, knew everyone's business. What with being the most visited business in all of Berk, the man had more than his share of the local gossip. If there were secrets to be learned or disputes to be settled, Gobber would be the one to know about it.

 

 

~*~

 

 

 

Something rough and blunt jabbed at his cheek and shoulder – never ending pokes that interspersed with small chirps and burbles.

 

Hiccup rolled his head away from the wet prodding. The rest of his body felt like a straw sack of old fish. He knew he wasn't in his room – neither the one on Berk nor the one at the Edge. Why he was lying on the ground, freezing, with about six pointed stones digging into his body was a question he was still a little too fuzzy to answer.

 

Shifting from the rocks, imprinting into his spine, roared memory back in all of the brilliant agony of his broken limb and the wail that jerked free was enough to startle away the rest of the fog from his mind. He froze, again, panting through his teeth while black heat roared the length of his leg. The pounding throb felt like Gobber's mallet slamming against an anvil. Chirruping trills and a harder nudge against his arm finally pulled his focus to the worried dark shape hanging over him.

 

“Hey, bud.” It was the only words he could breathe out – biting down his teeth through another burning swell of agony. Grass tore up beneath his fingers and it was a stretch of lost time before he could come back to himself; breath heaving in shaking pants. Seconds after the pain eased back enough to concentrate, he realized he was leaning against the warmth of a dragon's side. Toothless was curled around him – the tip of his rough tongue softly licking between his pinched brows.

 

Hiccup lifted his right hand to rub fingers against the soft nose. “Thanks, Toothless.”

 

The dragon rumbled – his shading wing moving to fold across his back; only then Hiccup realizing it was early afternoon. Which meant he'd been out for the whole night and half of the day, and...

 

“Where... are we?”

 

Craning his neck jolted new pain through his shoulders but he was able to pick out a few landmarks before his eyes blurred. They were in a small valley filled with trees – a clear path marking their crash to ground given the broken and toppled trunks. There was a deep groove a few meters back. Toothless must have carried him from the point of impact. Circling the valley were several high cliffs – some green with long yellowed grass while others were bare rock. Best of all, though, was the small loch a short way away. “Perfect crawling distance.” He muttered.

 

Which, of course, brought him to the most urgent issue he'd pushed to the back of his to-do list; right behind waking up and blinking. His leg.

 

He'd been happy to study his surroundings, his impact crater, the straps of his gauntlets, Toothless' nose... Harder, though, was to roll his eyes to the left. For moments he kept them shut. When he opened them, it was to, first, squint. “Well... good thing I keep a backup leg attachment...” Voice leaking out in a depleted whisper. Not that it was damaged; just... gone. Then, he swallowed, knowing this wasn't something he could put off for a more convenient time.

 

His mouth opened but not even breath passed his lips. Oh... gods...

 

His tongue was dry and gulping was no help. Turning his face away from the mess of his leg, he vomited.

 

Toothless licked his forehead and Hiccup rubbed his hand across that broad face. Spitting sour from his mouth, he focused on the next steps.

 

“Alright, bud; there are some things I'm gonna need...”

 

 

~*~

 

 

“Stoick! What can I do you for? Can I interest you in a new saddle for Skullcrusher? I've been working on a design with a high back. Better support for those long flights.”

 

Heat from the fire pit created an oasis of warmth on the chilly afternoon. Already clouding up overhead, Berk appeared to be preparing for another downpour. So used to the belligerent weather, though, that even a threat of hail wasn't enough to slow the villagers from their tasks. Most took the blow-ups in stride considering that even a dragon attack, of years gone by, wouldn't have been enough to keep any self-respecting Hooligan indoors.

 

The purpose of his drop-by was shelved as Stoick took in the design sketch on the forge wall. He tilted his head while thick fingers scrubbed through his beard.

 

“Perhaps a cradle on the back for my axe.”

 

Gobber lifted a charcoal tipped pencil from a mug on his messy desk. “Oh, aye! Good idea!” He added a few lines to the drawing – then lifted an eyebrow. “How about some sort of holder for your beer stein? We could fit one on each side!”

 

Stoick quirked his lip. “Are you suggesting the Chief of Berk fly while inebriated?”

 

Laughing, Gobber dropped the charcoal back in the mug and returned to the mace handle he'd been shaping. “You know as well as I do how well you hold your liquor. T'would take more than a couple'a draughts to tip you from the saddle. Now, were we to attach a whole keg...”

 

A rap at the small window pulled Gobber from his musing to collect a repaired helmet for Sven. The sheep herder tipped his fingers before whistling back towards his flock. Several more customers gathered at the window; as was how it typically went. Stoick helped to hand out completed work as well as take in fresh orders. He'd never lost his love of working the forge himself as a young apprentice – something he'd been proud to help instill into Hiccup.

 

Speaking of the boy...

 

“You see any sign of Hiccup this afternoon?”

 

Gobber scratched his chest as he stood back from his anvil. “Huh. Now that you bring it to my attention; I havn'eta seen the lad all day. Nor last night'either, come to think of it.”

 

Still, though, Hiccup had been flighty even before he'd acquired a dragon. And, with the yearly festivities drawing close, it was nothing to wonder about that the young man would be out of reach most of the time.

 

Wiping a stained rag over his broad face, Gobber dropped onto a stool and propped his stumped leg on a barrel to knead at the flesh above the wooden attachment. “Ye worried about him?”

 

“No! No – and why would I be? Nevermind that he ran out on me yesterday and hasn't come back, yet.”

 

“Ah... I see!” Dropping his leg back to the ground, the blacksmith winked towards his Chief. “Had The Talk, did ya?”

 

Stoick fumbled with the axe he'd been holding – thumb tracing across the honed edge. “Of course not! You told me _you_ had The Talk when the boy was twelve!”

 

For all his sun darkened skin, Stoick went as pale as a Scottish maid fresh from a yak milk bath. Gobber pressed one beefy hand against his face and bit back on the urge to call out the younger man for being a daft idiot.

 

“Not _that_ Talk – the other one! About the Bog Burglars?”

 

Slouching back against a supporting beam Stoick took a turn rubbing a thick hand across his brows. “Not exactly.”

 

Hedging wasn't as typical with Stoick as it was for his offspring. For the large man to chew on his thoughts before spitting them out, it had to have been an awkward conversation.

 

“Not exactly, ay? Knowing Hiccup I'm certain he would have leaped at the chance to go over such a touchy subject with you!” Sparks rained from the metal struck on his anvil as he resumed working. Behind him, Stoick huffed out something that was partway between irritation and laughter. Gobber didn't really need the details to imagine how that little talk had played out between the Chief and his heir. Stoick was a true warrior and leader of his people. He was just as skilled swinging an axe as he was helping an ewe birth a lamb. For such large hands he was delicate and skillful in the crafting of weapons, saddles, or anything else that needed building. However, none of those qualities had ever been much aid when it came to his son. Even now, when they were truly understanding one another, at least about dragons, Stoick still approached important conversations as though he were going to war.

 

“I was leading up to it.” Stoick grouched while pulling tanned leather over a saddle form. “The boy refused to listen. Scampered off before I could even begin discussing... it.”

 

“Luinnseach mhor...” Low enough not to carry over the sound of his hammer – though Stoick was well used to the curses and insults of his oldest friend. The fact the man felt twitchy discussing it even to _him_ was telling.

 

“So what did ye say?”

 

Halfhearted tapping holes along the edge of the shaped leather, Stoick sighed and dropped the tools back to the table. “Not what I should have.”

 

Anything further from the man was lost in the next rush of customers – lined up twenty deep at the small window.

 

The rest of the afternoon was taken up by the two men filling orders until Stoick finally stepped away to deal with the rest of his daily Chiefing and leaving Gobber to man the forge alone.

 

 

~*~

 

 

Hiccup's pain hummed a muffled note through pressed lips as fingers tightened the leather strap around his rough splint. A sharp head shake did little to throw sweat from his forehead so he swiped his temple against his shoulder. Toothless nudged against his other shoulder when he finally dropped back against the tree. He hugged his body and shuddered as the pain climbed up his thigh and radiated down through a foot he no longer had. Warm breath puffed across his face when he bit into his tongue – clamping down on the shrill sob jumping in his throat.

 

Instead, the whimpers and whines came from his dragon; the large creature pushing close against his side while the hurt climbed to a nearly insufferable peak.

 

It had taken nearly an hour for Toothless to find just the right branches to work as splints. Some were too thick while others had been too small, too flexible too fragile... He'd stripped Toothless of most of his harness; though he'd still hesitated, knife to leather, before sucking his lip between his teeth and going to work.

 

Far from perfect, he'd still managed to clean the blood well enough to see, with a full body shudder, that it wasn't the broken edge of bone that had left behind the gash in his thigh. Rather, it had probably been caused by the hunter's attack or even their crash to ground. While not completely certain, he'd thought the broken bone was out of place. More than likely given the way that boulder had struck him. Impossible for him to reset it himself, he'd stabilized it as well as possible through the hot throbbing of pain.

 

It was fading, now, at least. Enough for small movements as Hiccup gathered the remaining parts of his riding gear. The smaller straps he shoved into one saddlebag. The saddle and larger pieces of equipment he hid beneath a layer of earth and some leaf litter scraped across the top.

 

“Okay, bud. This next part... mmmmmm... yeah... it's gonna hurt. Probably a lot.” He winced – slinging one arm around the dragon's thick neck. The attempt to sling his leg over the folded wings ripped a short yell from his chest and he pushed his forehead against a warm neck.

 

Toothless crooned and flattened himself to the ground – head tilting to peer back at his panting rider. Hiccup rubbed one hand along the dragon's jaw. “Th- thanks, bud.” He gulped and pressed his eyes against his wrist – breathing the smell of warm leather and the comfortable mix of fish and reptile. Shoving his palm against his cheek and leaving a streak of wet, he reached across broad shoulders, again, and pulled – his right leg pushing his body halfway up. Forced to stop, once more, he ducked his face between his arm and choked as the agony roared to a higher peak. In that moment, Toothless began to roll to the left.

 

“Hey! Woah, woah, woah..!” Eyes snapping wide, Hiccup hugged his arms around the dragon's neck – only to shout as Toothless bucked; flipping him the rest of the way onto his back. More or less seated in place, Hiccup held his breath through the next spasm up his limb. All the while, Toothless kept still – tipping one ear back and cooing a soft warble.

 

Finally gasping out short puffs, Hiccup kept his back stiff as he rubbed Toothless between his shoulders. “Okay... let's go. Just... take it slow.”

 

It was... agonizing.

 

Nearly two hours of starts and stops – Toothless making careful steps; trying not to jostle his rider but even small movements caused pain to fire through Hiccup's broken limb.

 

At the edge of the lake, Toothless flattened to his belly again; allowing Hiccup to make a slow slide back to the grass. Digging his forearms into the soil, he hauled himself to the edge of the water and washed the blood from his fingers; then cupped mouthful after mouthful. Once his thirst was beaten back, he splashed the sun warmed wet across his face and throat. Next to him, Toothless had slurped water before pouncing into the lake – returning with several fish after a few dives. He immediately began swallowing his catch – then waddled to Hiccup's side where he started churking.

 

“Toothless – no – ah, gods...” A partially chewed hunk of saliva coated bream landed in the grass beside him. Hiccup slapped his face in his hand while Toothless wiggled and nudged the fish closer.

 

Face twisting, Hiccup angled an eyebrow towards his dragon, who sat back and made a show of licking his lips. An eye roll seemed like the proper response. Following that, Hiccup pulled the saddle bag from his shoulder and managed to sit himself upright with only a moment or two of darkening vision.

 

One arm wrapped around his middle and he flinched at the sharp throb when his gauntlet rubbed the inside of his left arm; only then remembering the arrow that had sliced by him. Pulling back some of the split leather, he was able to see that it wasn't a deep wound and had stopped bleeding. Digging into his bag, he freed the jar of poultice that Gothi had prepared for his leg stump. With two fingers, he dug out a small glob and spread it across the gash – hissing as it stung.

 

Afterwards, he sent Toothless on another stick collecting expedition – this time less concerned for the quality of the branches. When he had enough for a decent fire, he had the dragon hit it with a small blast. Washing off his fragment of fish, he pulled the rest of the guts out and pierced it on a sharpened stick to roast.

 

Toothless watched all of this with his head tilted; murmuring and blinking at the odd human practice of cooking food.

 

“Yeah, well, just because you like it raw and wriggling doesn't mean I'm gonna eat it that way.” In the hot fire, it took only minutes for the skin to begin to crisp. While Hiccup tested the meat for doneness, Toothless splashed back into the lake to catch more fish – leaving some of his catch near his rider – thankfully not pre-digested this time.

 

The fish helped; though his stomach was still twisting a bit. He sucked a breath when he leaned to wash the grease and scales from his hands – holding the groans in his lungs until the pain seeped back again.

 

He would need shelter, soon, but wasn't sure he'd be able to build even the simplest lean-to. Somehow he had to get himself to his feet. His spare leg attachment was useless to him, now, but maybe he could put together a rough crutch. It would hurt, but he had to do something towards moving them off this island and back to Berk. Though, one step before the other. Without his harness, Toothless was grounded. Hiccup debated whether he should remove the red tailfin as well. He didn't want the leather to chafe if they were there a long time... he swallowed.

 

“Hey, bud, come here.”

 

Of course, Toothless bounded the other way.

 

“Tooth- Toothless! Come on! No – it isn't play time! Toothless!” Ignoring him, the dragon's back hunched as he leaped through the grass before flopping on his back with his feet waving above him.

 

Hiccup snatched up a handful of the grass and sniffed it. Dragon nip. Perfect.

 

Fine, he'd remove the fin later. Instead, he turned his eyes back towards the pile of branches that remained from the fire. It was the same problem he'd dealt with when creating his splint. The majority were dead and too fragile to hold even his slight weight. However, he finally dig free a couple that might work. One was tall enough and, with a little trimming, could maybe work. However, it didn't have a forked branch to cradle his shoulder. The other had a fork but it was a little on the short side – only about five feet. However, with a little craftsmanship and the use of his remaining leather straps, he might be able to put together something that would work.

 

So, leaving Toothless to his field, Hiccup unsheathed his knife and began to trim.

 

 

~*~

 

 

“Lord Arnau, we've spotted a landmass about fifteen leagues off starboard. At our current speed we could reach it a few hours after nightfall.”

 

Wind gusts slapped cold sea spray across the bow; spattering the larger man's fur cloak with icy drops. Black hair whipped across his eyes, though it went ignored. The crewman beside him waited in silence.

 

Above the seabirds circled their ship.

 

Head tipping back, Arnau closed his eyes to breathe in deeply; flaring his nostrils at the flavors of salt and wet wood carried on the air currents. His crewman could only see one side of his face at that angle – the skin covered in blue black ink of lines and serrated patterns that divided his features; half man, half devil according to many of the crew.

 

Finally, his head dropped back down. Never turning from the ocean, Arnau smiled.

 

“Take us there.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> While research has been made into rituals and practices, Berk provides its own cultural challenges. As it is, I’ve taken some liberties in order to fit the canon of the series as well as possible. As for the Fyr Bal festival, those liberties were taken as far as I could push them.


End file.
